Laetitia Cordis
by genericbadguy
Summary: He had never quite been honest with himself, now he finds that everything he thought he wanted was a lie. Soon he will discover everything he never knew he needed and having it might just be impossible. Unless Miss Hermione Granger has anything to say about it. Companion piece to Heart's Delight. Rating for language and themes of suicide.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.**

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Chapter 1

It fucking hurt.

Oh God! The blood was gurgling out of his mouth and neck and he could feel himself shaking as he desperately clutched at his neck. The damn bastard used his fucking snake and it fucking hurt!

Fitting way to end a painful existence, he thought bitterly. Hating life for its consistency.

Pain and failure. His legacy.

Oh God, oh God! Who would tell the boy? He had one more fucking job and-

Something moved to his right and fear lanced through him like an even more painful electric shock and for an instant he thought that the giant-ass snake was back to finish him.

Potter! He hadn't failed…not quite. Oh piss, he didn't want to die like this. He at least wanted someone else to know that. To see what he had tried to live for. Even if the boy was to join him soon behind the veil, maybe he would think that he…

Piss! Fucking piss.

He hated everything that had brought him to this and he just wanted to make excuses. The boy was collecting the memories now and he couldn't feel much anymore. The room was getting darker and suddenly terror of dying completely disconnected from every other soul gripped him.

He made one last request. And the boy obliged.

And things went dark…

…

Most of his life, Severus did not derive comfort from normal things. Sleep was nice enough right up until his thrice damned alarm went off, food was tasty he supposed, but certain Dark Lords tended to give him stomach ulcers.

He had friends. Kind of. Sometimes.

When he wasn't murdering beloved headmasters, and subsequently, his kind of friend and mentor.

No, his life was piss and he supplied the vinegar himself.

Students joked that he enjoyed making them feel like crap, like worthless dunderheads. The older ones joked that he wanked off to the sounds of their tears, but he knew that both ideas were shite.

Especially the latter!

Jeez! He hated vulgar little shites that thought that the world revolved around dicks and tits.

He hated little shites that didn't pay attention.

And ones that could not be damned to what they were told.

He hated children.

But he also hated himself for not being able to control his anger around them.

He was the adult. The teacher. And they were only children.

They behaved like children and he could never seem to keep his temper when they were only being what nature had intended them to be.

Children.

He would watch them scurry away from him and flinch when he spoke and he knew that he was at fault.

They were only children.

He hated himself.

Wait…the hell…? How was he having epiphanies when he was dead?

A limb spasmed dramatically.

HOLY FUCKING HELL, HE WASN'T DEAD!

Why wasn't he dead?

No don't question it, he might just be on the brink of death and about to pass any second now…

That was his right leg twitching! He fucking knew it!

But it was still dark, his eyes must be closed and he concentrated on getting something else to twitch…

The process was slow, but things kept moving and the room was getting lighter. But feeling was also returning and it was a horrifying burning that he realized that his eyes were not closed. They had been open the entire time and it felt like someone had up-ended a salt shaker in them as he tried to blink and cry as much as he could. The only time he would cry on purpose.

He suddenly realized that he had a gaping wound to attend to and fumbled for a good five minutes to find he secret emergency healing potion, and his secret emergency blood replenishing potion and to thank every deity he could name that every morning with his morning coffee he drank his secret not-emergency-but-bloody-necessary all-purpose honey-badger anti-venom.

He threw the empty vials to the side and absently realized that Nagini's neuro-toxins must have been mostly neutralized except for those pesky paralyzing one's. That also might have been what stopped him from bleeding out and his bodies functions fell to undetectable levels.

He took a deep breath and sat up despite the pain. That was not a new practice after-all; everything must be done regardless of the horrible pain it caused.

He flexed his blood covered hands, now dry, stiff and flaking and realized that Voldemort was probably still out there. Or if he wasn't, a young man, that shouldn't have had to, was lying down next to the corpse. Equally as dead.

All the "joie de vie" that had filled him at finding that he still had "vie" flew away, like a startled bird and he covered his face with his hands. He wished that it had ended.

No, maybe not. But he steeled himself for returning to the world full of piss and stood up like the adult he was.

It still hurt. He figured it always would.

He slowly walked through the tunnel and across the grounds towards the castle. Parts of it were smoking, but it mostly seemed silent. Probably meant that one side or the other had won, but he kept his wand firmly in his hand because neither side particularly liked him at the moment.

He took a side entrance that no one noticed much and quietly made his way towards the Great Hall. It took a while though as steps turned out to hate him and send a stabbing pain straight from his foot to his neck. He was no medi-wizard, but he could not reasonably think of how those two parts of his body should be connected in any way…well except for by the rest of his body. Dammit, he needed more blood replenishing potion.

He reached the teachers side entrance of the Hall and took a second to try to cast a disillusionment charm on himself. His body sputtered in and out of sight before failing and he suddenly did not care. With arms that felt like lead he opened the door and walked in, wand held loosely in his hand.

No one noticed him anyway.

And what a happy little scene he stumbled upon. Well, not happy. There were dead everywhere, but there was relative peace.

Plus, Voldemort's dead body was lying three feet away. Snape found himself drawn closer as he looked at the snake-man's surprised expression and glazed over eyes. He wondered where Potter's body was. Walking from body to body with a tired but determined shuffle, he searched and ignored the people around him that had now definitely taken notice of him.

Someone yelled Expelliarmus and Snape let his wand fly away as he paused in front of Remus Lupin's body. He expected some sort of righteous elation and he realized that he had been a spiteful bastard. The last marauder was dead and he only felt hollow in the place that his hate had been. By instinct his mind immediately began to list all of the things that made his hatred justified and he had to tell himself to shut the fuck up.

They weren't all excuses, but very few were valid points. That was just another thing to add to the list of things he bitterly hated about himself. Vindictive.

"Snape!" someone yelled. Someone that suspiciously sounded like a boy that he knew to be dead. His head shot up and he say that dead boy standing about twenty feet away from him and looking like death warmed over. But, well… not dead. Potter took a tentative step towards him, emotions warring on his face.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape rasped, "It appears that, once again, you have failed to listen to your betters and to do as your told…Five points to Gryffindor."

With that he sank to the ground and sat Indian style and went back to staring at the dead man that he had hated all of his life and now wished wasn't dead.

Well, if wishes were horses, a stampede would be the death of them all. Or however the saying went.

Some of Snape's most fervent wishes had come true. His "enemies", every single fucking one, was dead, and the boy-bloody-well-lived was standing right there. Snape was overwhelmed by the fact that he had never had one single fucking clue of what he had actually wanted in life.

Whatever his heart's desire was, and he did not care much anymore. He would live with whatever came next.

Piss and all.

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 **A/N: ...What do you think? Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter**

 **A/N: Thank you to those that reviewed and told me about the problems with the chapter. I am not sure why it gets messed up like that, but I will keep an eye out for it in the future.**

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Chapter 2

What came next involved a lot of people crying. Not him. He just kind of sat there and half listened as other people yelled and cried. 

"I already told everyone," said Potter voice strained and thick "Snape has always been Dumbledore's man!" 

I am not blond or pretty enough to have been Dumbledore's man. Thought Snape with a snort. 

"And how am I to believe that! The man has been a Death Eater the last year!" Trilled McGonagall. 

I've been a Death Eater for the last twenty years, you hag! 

"Professor, we spoke to Dumbledore's portrait ourselves." said the only voice that wasn't choking on some sort of emotion "He confirmed that it had been his plan all along." 

Damn fucking straight Granger. 

"But surely he would have told someone else about his plan?" Interjected Molly Weasley. 

The old pisser didn't and don't call me Shirley. 

"Professor Snape," said Granger quietly leaning down towards him, "You know your talking out loud, right?" 

What?! 

"Oh piss!" he shook his head and immediately regretted it as his head throbbed and sharp pain shot through his neck. The delicate healing skin there suddenly ripped and everyone jumped back and screamed as they tried to avoid the spray of blood. 

Severus laughed weakly as he looked at their faces until he realized that his perspective was from lower on the ground than he previously thought he was. 

Granger did not jump back though, she jumped forward and clamped her hand over his wound. 

"We should get him to Madame Pomfrey." She said very calmly for a girl covered in another's blood.  
McGonagall tsked. 

"Very well, but you, Mr. Potter, are going to take me to the Headmaster's office and explain all this nonsense." 

"Yes, Professor." 

"Molly dear," she said turning to the matriarch, "Will you guard Severus until I have this sorted and the bloody Aurors decide to show up. Honestly, you'd think they would have noticed the carnage but it looks like I will have to send them a bleeding memo!" 

"Of course, Minerva."

Snape began to struggle a bit, but he was dizzy from lack of blood and the Granger girl was stronger than she looked. He tried to yell that anyone besides the red-headed mother could guard him. He liked his right ear and every other body part he currently possessed and the thought of being at the mercy of a wrong and protective mother was like putting your balls into the mouth of a crocodile and hoping it would bite! No! Bloody fucking no! 

But all that came out of his mouth was a desperate gurgling sound and animalistic noises through all the blood. 

"Oh my, I think he is having some sort of fit." Mrs. Weasley said with morbid fascination. His vision grew dim around the edges as the woman took a step forward and he resigned himself to the loss of limb the next time he woke up as he slowly list consciousness. 

Piss! 

Next time he woke up was when the real crying began. Poppy was clinging onto his clothes in fists and calling him a "horrible, stupid, brave man". He resentfully noticed that the clothes she was crying into was the standard gown. She always had the habit of removing his clothes while he was unconscious and that was not the fun way of going about it. Not that Poppy would have invited for the fun version; Snape didn't have a thing for mother figures. 

So there he was with a weeping woman draped over, half of him screaming in panic: "Fuck! What do you do with a crying woman!" and wondering what he was supposed to do with his hands and the other wishing he could just roll over and go back to sleep. 

She finally sat up with a sniff and began to wipe her face and he nearly thanked Merlin for the relief. But then Minerva and the merry band of Gryffindors showed up and he decided that Merlin could go drown in a bucket of piss instead. 

"Severus." Said Minerva with a stiff upper lip. "I misjudged you." 

And then she sniffed. 

Fucking sniffed and Snape almost choked on his own spit from the shock. Any display of sentimentality from the stoic Scotswoman was surely a sign of the apocalypse. 

Minerva sniffed and said something that might as well have been an offer to adopt him. 

"We all misjudged you Professor." Said Potter and Severus resisted the urge to poke the boy just to make sure, once more, that he was alive. 

"Yeah." Added Weasley lamely as Granger nodded. Snape looked at each of their faces one by one an suddenly remembered what he had given the boy when he thought he was dying.  
Ohhhh, dear fucking Merlin…they all had seen it. Ahhh, he was going to throw up. He really was. Where was his wand? He could kill them all and then drag his broken body to the lake to drown himself. 

"Oh dear, is he having another fit?" asked Minerva. 

"It looks like he is reaching for the bedside table." And Snape wanted to laugh insanely that the swot had gotten it right, but he was too busy trying to get his arms to have more motor ability than a flopping fish. 

"I think I best sedate him." Said Poppy and then she was forcing his head back and he gladly welcomed oblivion. 

He wasn't sure exactly how much time passed after that. Every time he woke up, he just kept his eyes closed until he drifted back to sleep. At one point he heard Poppy talking to someone about neuro-toxins and he accepted that he was probably being dosed. He didn't really want to wake up. 

But there came a point where he found that he could drift back off to sleep. No matter how much he wanted the dark and welcoming depths of sleep to envelop him once more, he mind remained alert.  
With a sigh he opened his eyes and squinted at the light. It was either mid-morning or early evening.

Either way, there was someone sitting next to his bed and that had to be addressed first. 

"Go away Granger." 

The girl's head shot up from the book she had been reading. 

"Oh, you're awake!" she squeaked. 

"Clearly."

He began the slow process of sitting up, glad that she didn't try to help him as he probably would have slapped her hands away. 

"You were due to wake up yesterday." She stated in her most know-it-all voice once he was situated with his pillows. 

"My apologies." He drawled and resisted the urge to pull up his covers more. Students seeing him out of his layers of black and buttons made his skin itch. 

"Well." She said succinctly as she marked the place in her book and closed it. "They wanted someone to be here when you did." 

"Harry was here. As well as most of the order. They wanted to be here to present you with this." 

She held out a large square velvet box. 

"But I convinced them that you wouldn't want a crowd." 

"So you volunteered to stay?" he sneered and ignored the box the best he could. 

"We assumed that you wouldn't really have a strong opinion about me either way." She said as if she was being completely reasonable and held the box out further. 

He sighed and snatched it out of her hands and dropped it into his lap, but didn't open it. 

"I don't have any opinion about you, Miss Granger." 

She smirked and sat back in her chair. 

"Just so Professor." 

He scowled and resisted the urge to cross his arms, but the action seemed petulant. He just stared at his hands instead. 

He did have an opinion of her; he had an opinion about all of his students. It was true that he hated the entire Golden Trio, but that was on principle and out the three, he hated her the least. 

She was a bright student and she had incredible potential. One of his guilty pleasures was hearing about former students that had done something with their lives. All the other teachers would talk loudly and brag when they heard about one of their favorites accomplishing something impressive. And he always made a point of remaining disdainfully silent whenever they did. 

But he was the one that would leave the newspaper article or academic journal the student had published in the teacher's lounge. Then he would wait around for them to find it, and practice his disdain. 

He liked it when they succeeded. 

He hated it when they wasted their potential. 

Like the students that he wrote letters of recommendation for, only to find that they got married or pregnant instead. 

Their future that should have brought them to great heights, ruined because they were too careless or impatient. 

Just like Lily… 

Fuck! It still made him angry! 

She had a full scholarship! And instead she was forced into being stuck in a house with a baby and an ass of a husband. 

It used to make him burn with rage, thinking about how Potter must have tricked her, or bullied her into sacrificing her brilliant future in order to bear his sprog. 

He seethed at the loss of the things she could have done, the things he would have let her do. And how he would have made sure that she become the best in her field and then filled her with his child! 

It would have been perfect. 

But she married Potter. She got pregnant and didn't go to University. 

Then she died. 

Like his mother got pregnant and was killed at the hands of his bastard father. She never lived to her potential either. 

Shite! He didn't want to see it anymore. 

"Well sir, I think I'll just go." The girl said standing up and Snape realized that he had been seething silently and staring at nothing for the last five minutes. 

"Miss Granger." He said quietly. She stuffed her book into her ridiculous beaded bag and looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and looked over her left shoulder. 

"You are incredibly intelligent, Miss Granger and could do amazing things. Don't waste that." 

Don't get knocked up. 

"Go to University." 

Don't get stuck in a house, serving a man that went in and out of it. 

"Don't let anyone limit you." 

She stared at him with the strangest look on her face and Snape scowled at blanket. 

"Leave, Miss Granger." He snarled. 

"Yes, sir… thank you…" she turned suddenly and walked briskly out of the hospital wing. 

Long after he could no longer hear her footsteps, he slowing picked up the box in his lap and opened it. 

There were only two things inside; his memories and his Order of Merlin. Somehow he felt unsurprised and astounded at the same time to have either of them. 

And somehow both felt utterly inappropriate to possess. He put the vial of silver memories on his bedside table and dangled the medal in front of him, staring at it. 

"Well fuck…"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.

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Chapter 3

He didn't mind coming back to Hogwarts to teach. Nor did he mind being the potion's professor again. He kind of wanted something familiar for a time.

After all, almost everything else about him had changed.

Which brought him to where he was currently standing. He narrowed his eyes at the open jar in front of him and reached into his pocket for a handful of change.

He fucking swore a fucking lot.

To coins clinked into the jar.

Not out loud, but in his head he said whatever shite he wanted.

Clink.

He had never really thought about why before, he just thought whatever he bloody well pleased.

Clink.

It hadn't occurred to him, not fucking!

Clink!

once in over twenty-five fucking!

Clink!

Years! That HE BLOODY FUCKING TALKED EXACTLY FUCKING LIKE HIS PISSED FILLED, FUCKING PIECE OF SHITE FATHER!

Snape threw the handful of change as hard as he could and listened to the sickles and knuts crash and bounce off of the table, rolling across the floor of the teacher's lounge.

His clenched fists shook as he took deep shaky breaths.

Fucking near death experiences with their fucking epiphanies and thrice damned paradigm shifts.

Everything was shifting underneath him and he didn't know if he could keep his footing.

Severus covered his face with his hands and concentrated on breathing. After a couple of minutes he dropped his hands limply and summoned all of the coins off of the floor.

After a second of hesitation, he dropped them into the jar.

That would be his down payment for the day. He wouldn't force himself with this today; he would ask that much less of himself today and concentrate on improving something else.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and took a second to straighten his robes; tugging the sleeves down over his hands just a little more.

The "swear jar" had been in the teacher's lounge since the eighties, right after Albus had learned of the concept. No one really took it seriously until it started filling up after the war. Just last week Minerva asked all the teachers what they should do with the money. She made very sure not look at Severus when she said it too.

Everyone made sure not to look at him in those next silent and tense moments.

"Maybe we can donate the money to St. Mungo's?" suggested Flitwick, also not looking at Severus.

They all seemed to be holding their breaths waiting to see if anyone that they were not looking at had any objections. After what seemed an unnecessarily long time Minerva cleared her throat.

"Yes, well, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you Filius."

And they got on with the fucking meeting.

Severus winced and forced himself to think about what he was going to try to accomplish today.

He swept through the halls, his robes billowing behind him and reminded himself that they were only children.

Yes, potions was a dangerous class and he had to teach them not to kill each other.

Yes, they were little idiots that didn't pay attention.

No, he didn't have to be an emotionally abusive shit because of those two previous points.

Oh, he had so many more excuses for why he acted the way he did. Poignant points that he had been snarling at himself and others for years. But he had spent days once he woke up just sitting and staring at his Order of Merlin, first class. He remembered the first time it was offered to him by Fudge that year when Black and escaped and almost had his soul ripped from his body.

Severus had felt such vindictive glee at the prospect and when the dog escaped he effectively took Snape's Order of Merlin with him.

And the rage from the injustice Snape felt from that had made him feel as if it were tearing him apart.

Snape had quasi convinced himself that he deserved that medal. That he earned it from all the torture the Black bastard had put him through in school.

For so long he had wanted them all to die.

And then they did.

And he had his medal.

And he hated himself.

So he stared at the medal until he understood why he wanted to melt the thing down and throw it in the lake.

The answer was simply that he didn't think he deserved it.

But he didn't understand that either.

So he went from staring at his medal to staring at himself. A practice he rarely indulged in.

There was a reason for that though, and that was because he looked like his father. But he went to the mirror and after a couple minutes he sneered.

A comfortable, familiar expression. And one that made go cold all over.

He looked even more like his father when he did.

He hadn't realized.

With the trepidation of one that slowly looks at what they know is an ugly wound, he began to think of all the ways that he was like his father.

The worst thing about growing up with Tobias Snape as a father was not that he would smack him and his mother around. No. Not the worst part.

But that was the criterion that Severus had always used when trying to make himself feel better about his life.

He had never hit a child. Or anyone under 17 once he, himself, was over 17 and he told himself that he wasn't anything like his father because of it.

The worst part, was the way he flinched as a child whenever he thought his father was going to touch him. The worst part was the way his father could and frequently did, make him feel like a worthless piece of crap with just a few words.

The worst part was the way his mother kept her head down and had that hunted look in her eyes more and more as the years passed. And that she never left Tobias Snape and she never fought back.

Severus would have taken every punch, smack and kick if he could have had the mother he remembered from when he was young back.

At fourteen he stopped flinching and started stepping between his mother and his father's fists. He thought it a victory when he kicked his father out and made sure that Severus had the ability to kill Tobias and get away with it if he ever dared return.

But Severus went back to school and Tobias returned, beat his wife to death and then shot himself.

Severus hated his father the most for that self murder. There were so many ways that he could have made the man suffer by living.

He turned away from the mirror and sat down on the edge of the bathtub with his head in his hands.

His students flinched when he came near.

The younger ones did anyway; at some point almost all of them grew out of it but they knew to keep their heads down. They knew that Professor Snape could tear them apart with just a few words for the slightest infraction.

Snape felt a shudder run through his body in a mixture of revulsion and self hate.

He looked like his father.

He spoke like his father.

He acted like his father.

How much more of a fucking cliché could he become?

Something whispered in he back of his head about a .38 that he kept in a box under his bed at Spinner's End, but he reared away from that thought like the edge of a cliff.

Instead he started using the swear jar.

He went to his classroom and told himself again and again that the children were not his enemy.

That he liked his own Slytherin's well enough and treated them decently; why not the rest?

It was a little hard to live by that when a shi- crap-for-brains Hufflepuff just added bay leaves to his potion. Bay leaves weren't in the recipe.

Snape stopped next to the boy's cauldron and watched the third year flinch when he turned and caught sight of his potion's professor so close.

Snape made a mental note to walk less quietly and deliberately clasped his hands behind his back instead of crossing them over his chest.

"Mr. Anders." He said softly.

"Y-yes, sir?" the boy was visibly shaking and Snape's anger began to flare at gutless, little Puffs that-

Snape cut his inner rant short and breathed in slowly.

"Mr. Anders," he said still speaking softly if not a little tightly, "I want you to do me a favor. Take your right hand and put it right here."

Snape indicated where on his own chest. The boy reached out to touch Snape and he almost smacked the boy's hand away.

"On your own chest, Mr. Anders!"

The boy retracted his hand as if Snape had snapped at it with his teeth.

"Good." The professor said through clenched teeth. "Now, take your other hand and put it here. On yourself."

The boy covered up the spot where his tie could be seen above his closed robes and with his house affiliation covered up, Snape took a deep breath.

"Very good. Now take a look at your potion, Mr. Anders."

The boy leaned forward and began to drop his hands

"Keep your hands up." Snape commanded and brought them back into place.

"Do you see the red tinge around the edge of your potion?"

"Yes sir."

"Is it supposed to be red, Mr. Anders?"

"Um…no?"

Snape's nostrils flared in irritation but his voice did not change.

"No, no its not. Do you remember at what point it began to change color?"

"Um…"

"The Bay leaves, Mr. Anders. Keep you hands up."

"Is the red bad, sir?" The boy's lip began to tremble and Severus consciously adjusted his position so that he was standing in front of the cauldron and not looming over the child.

"Yes, Mr. Anders, for this potion, the red is very bad. In about ten minutes, the entire potion will turn red and two minutes after that, Mr. Anders, it will explode. Taking the entire class with it. Congratulations, you have somehow managed to turn a Hiccup Solution into TNT. Dynamite Mr. Anders, a volatile explosive."

The student at the bench behind Mr. Anders, and the only one that had heard their exchange, suddenly stumbled backwards with a horrified expression and proceeded to bolt from the classroom. Snape watch the girl barrel out the door with pursed lips before turning back to Mr. Anders. The boy was as pale as a ghost.

"Hands up."

The boy swallowed thickly adjusted his hands and stared up at Snape as if the man was their only salvation.

Severus suppressed a sigh and vanished the contents of the cauldron with a flick of his wand.

"You will serve detention for a week, Mr. Anders, to impress upon you the fact that you could have killed all your friends today by not paying attention. There are no bay leaves in this potion."

Snape said it all very calmly and in a soft enough voice that none else heard. He looked at the defeated boy in front of him and wasn't angry anymore.

"Do you understand why you are being punished Mr. Anders?" he asked.

"Yes sir." The child said very quietly, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Good. You have thirty minutes left of class. Attempt the potion again and I will give you partial credit."

The boy's head shot up and he stared at Snape with wide eyes as he walked away.

Snape felt like smiling, it came out as a smug smirk that he his by dipping his head and letting his hair fall around his face, but still. That went well.

Maybe he could change after all.

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 **A/N: I would love to hear back from you guys, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter.**

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. I am was forced to move and have been busy almost non-stop. I hope to resume weekly updates after this.**

 **Warning: Themes of suicide.**

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Chapter 4

There were good days and bad days.

The day right after the incident with Mr. Anders was a good day. The girl that had split and bailed the second she heard 'TNT' made sure that the entire school knew how close she had come to death. No one really got angry at the boy though, he wasn't the one that ran out and left her entire class to die what she believed was a messy death without a single glance behind.

Snape figured that her following unpopularity was punishment enough and only gave her a stern talking to about leaving in the middle of class.

The story, however, spread quickly, along with Mr. Anders' version of it.

So the next day of classes began and Snape banged the door open, like he always did, swept up to the front of the room, as usual, and only got two words into his lecture and froze.

The entire class seemed to be holding their breath and watching him in tense anticipation.

None of them were wearing their ties.

Not only that, but their school robes were inside out and Snape could not see a single indication of their respective houses. The corners of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly before he could help it and he picked up his lecture from where he left off mid sentence.

Oh, points were still taken that day and of course he knew who was in what house, but it had helped. It felt like it was progress and that he wasn't quite as on his own in his efforts. That he had help.

It was a good feeling and a good day.

Today was not a good day. It was one of many.

He had woken up at 5am, like he normally did, but when he opened his eyes he just wished he could close them again. He could, he told himself, there wasn't much reason to get up anyway.

It hurt.

He wasn't alone injured or sore from physical activity, but it simply hurt.

The pain seemed to reside in his body and his limbs, it felt like a cloud that pervaded his mind and there did not seem to be a solution to fix it.

It hurt to lay there. It hurt to reach out and grab his wand and it hurt to just stare at the piece of wood in his hand and wish that there was some sort of magic to make it stop.

A .38 would be a much better tool for the job, he thought before he could help it.

He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of his bed and wiped his hand over his face.

He told himself that he was not his father and that it was time to get up and get dressed.

He proved it to himself by standing.

It still hurt.

But he had always lived with pain, now he just had to learn how to live without the anger. Those two had always come as a matching set.

It's better this way, he told his reflection in the mirror and he proved it by being able to look himself in the eye.

He was dressed and halfway to breakfast when he realized that it was Saturday…

"Fuck." Fuckity fuck-fuck.

There had been no reason for him to get out of bed.

He covered his face with his hands for a moment and then reached into his pockets to feel for loose change. At least he had given himself a reason to be up and headed for the teacher's lounge with a determined step.

He kept that determined gait right until he wrenched the door open and then nearly stumbled as he came to an abrupt halt.

"Oh, good morning Severus!" called out Minerva. "You remember Miss Granger don't you?"

Snape looked back and forth between the headmistress and his former student as he fingered a coin in his pocket. They were seated around the table and looked right cozy with tea and a light breakfast that they had obviously just started and would not be leaving anytime soon.

Minerva was staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer but it really was a dumb question. Did he think he had forgotten the girl that had saved his life a year beforehand? She had the same frizzy hair, same inquisitive brown eyes that grew wider while waiting for an answer to a question. Really those eyes always seemed so desperate to him, the way that they were so open and ready to receive information. It was like each answer was somehow so important to her that she needed it to feed her soul.

He almost turned around and slammed the door behind him but… his eyes flicked to the swear jar and he took a deep breath.

Ignoring them he walked over to it with his shoulders back and dropped in four coins. One for each fuck he gave.

He made very sure that he did not look at them as he walked out of the room again with his head up. And tried to ignore the fact that he was leaving behind two women to gossip and natter about him. He imagined Minerva leaning in to tell Granger in a low conspiratorial voice how he was funding an entire wing in St. Mungo's instead of happily spending his spare money in Flourish and Blotts or an apothecary.

The insufferable girl's eyes would probably widen in shock and pity…

Severus resisted the urge to spit on the ground.

He didn't need her pity. He didn't want it. He just wanted to lay down and try to relieve some of this pressure that felt like weights pulling him down.

Instead he walked down the halls, right out the front door and across the grounds. As he left the gates he stopped and looked back at the castle and clenched his fists.

He should go back.

Even with all of the students he was trying not to hate and the women and teachers that glanced at him, pitying him. It was his home…

He just didn't want to go on with it all anymore.

He turned in place and apparated.

With a pop, he came back into existence inside of Spinner's End and sneered at the dimly lit room and musty smell.

He wasn't sure why he came here; he hadn't returned since the final battle. But the same feeling that made him run away from everyone that knew him and the place that was his home, also made him want to hide and be alone.

His childhood home seemed the natural choice. It was the place that had taught him loneliness after all.

He nervously sat on the edge of the couch and immediately stand back up, thinking about how he should go back to Hogwarts.

But should he really?

Without conscious choice he walked over to his staircase and looked up the dark passage. It felt inevitable when he took the first step up the stairs.

What did Hogwarts have for him anyway?

Students that feared and hated him? Colleagues that put up with him and the tombstone of his only real friend and mentor that he had killed?

He had thought things were getting better, but that just seemed stupid now.

He reached the top and walked into the room that his parents had slept in and stared at the bed.

He would just take what was hiding underneath it out and look at it. Hold it in his hand to know what it felt like and then, maybe, he would go back.

Severus ignored the thick dust on the ground as he got on his knees and reached under the bed. The box was in the exact same place that he had kicked it years ago and slid out with a quiet scrape.

He didn't know or care enough about guns, but he knew how to load it.

He figured he really only needed that much information. That and how to pull the trigger and that seemed simple enough.

He sat on the edge of the bed with it in his hand and felt the weight of it.

Would anyone find his body if he did it here?

Did he want anyone to?

Leaving his dead body on top of the astronomy tower just seemed overdramatic and pointless. That wasn't even the scene of his greatest crime.

A list of equally inappropriate places to leave his corpse flinted through his mind and he laughed bitterly.

If he was going to do this, he should set things in order first. Because if he was going to take time to try not to inconvenience others with his mess, he might as well not leave any loose ends.

He sat the gun on the bedside table and stood, taking the time to brush the dust off his pants. Severus breathed in deeply through his nose and apparated back to Hogwarts.

* * *

 **A/N: Maybe not the best place to stop, but it is what I wrote. Anyone that has read the companion piece to this story should be fine though. I recommend it to anyone that is burning with curiosity.**

 **If you or anyone you know is thinking about suicide please talk to someone. Chats and hotlines are always available and there are many people who care enough to listen and talk to you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Harry Potter.**

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Chapter 5

"Professor Snape!"

The man froze in the middle of the hallway with his fists clenched and his shoulders tense and waited. He knew from experience now that if he tried to ignore her and just walk faster, she would simply run after him.

And if there was one thing that would not happen, Severus Snape was not going to be seen being chased down the hallway by Apprentice Hermione Granger.

As soon as she caught up with him, he began walking again without a word.

"Hello professor!" She said cheerily keeping Pace with him. "I was just wondering if you had the chance to read the latest article by Mullins yet?"

Severus' scowl deepened, but he said nothing.

"I thought it was curious how he suggested the use of Charms to produce un-shriveled shrivelfigs that increase the potency of quicksilver draughts, but something seems off with the process when he comes to the flashpoint. What is your opinion?"

He stopped in front of his closed classroom door and sneered at her.

"Oh! You have class! Sorry to bug you, maybe we can talk about it at dinner?" She smiled and flounced off down the hall. Snape waited until she was around the corner and he could not hear her footfalls before he opened the door and walked into his empty classroom. Going straight to his office he slammed the door shut and paced in front of his desk.

He had not read the Mullins article.

Or any article in the past week. Really he did not see a point to it; he was supposed to be putting his things in order. He spun around and paused, staring at the untouched potions journal on his desk.

…The topic had sounded fascinating.

But should he really be engaging in these things when he was trying to disconnect? He shook his head ruefully. Well, it was not like he was working with a deadline here. He could read as many articles as he wanted and die with one clutched in his hand if he wanted! He thought somewhat defiantly.

He strode with purpose over to his desk and sat down, dragging the journal in front of him but not opening it.

Death, after all, he thought to himself, would always be waiting for him. Ready to welcome him if he so chose.

Snape cleared his throat and opened the book, scanning the index for Mullins and began to read. If Miss Granger wanted a discussion, he would be ready.

When Hermione entered the Great Hall, Snape was already seated at the head table as she scanned it. As soon as she saw him, her eyes gleamed and she headed straight for him. He had to suppress a smirk at her almost predatory search for knowledge. It could be annoying sometimes, but sometimes… well it was refreshing.

"So Professor," she said sitting down next to him and reaching for the juice, "What did you think?"

Snape swallowed his potatoes and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Tell me first, Miss Granger. Why are you reading potions journals when you already have apprenticeships in Charms, Transfiguration and Arithmacy?"

She blushed a bit and averted her eyes.

"I have always read Potions Monthly, Professor. And I thought this article was a wonderful demonstration of cross-discipline work."

Snape nodded.

"Well you were right about the process when it came to the flashpoint. He faked it."

"No!" she said scandalized and allowed her roast beef to slide off her fork. This time he did not suppress the smirk.

"He obviously think it can happen the way he and has predicted the outcome quite well, but he has not accomplished it yet."

Hermione shook her head.

"He must have run out of funding and faked the article to bolster confidence in his sponsors." She said gravely.

"Quite."

"How did you know?"

"Well..."

Dinner ended and Snape left the hall with what constituted as his version of a pleasant look on his face.

It felt nice to talk to someone, to have them listen and value his input. That hadn't happened a lot since Albus-

Since Albus.

After that there were no more stimulating discourses about Dragon's Blood or alchemy or anything really. For a while it was just cringing before a madman and enduring the look of bitterness and betrayal in the faces of his colleagues.

Snape slowed his walk and that hint of pleasant faded from his features.

Now wasn't much better. Now it was just avoidance and whispers that he was subjected to.

He stopped as he neared his quarters and leaned against the wall, head down and his hair curtaining his face. He hated that he didn't want to be lonely anymore and he hated that he hadn't gotten so low that a twenty-minute conversation with a former student meant so much to him.

He pushed off the wall with disgust and went inside his rooms. There on one of the tables next to his favorite reading chair was a charms journal. Miss Granger had offered to let him read it at supper and she must have gotten a house-elf to deliver it to him immediately. Supposedly there was a fascinating article in there that she was sure he would find interesting.

He sighed as he picked it up.

This wasn't going to keep him here.

Conversations with an intelligent young woman were not going to keep him here.

So what was keeping him here?

He swallowed thickly and sat down with the book. Maybe he would figure it out tomorrow because maybe tomorrow would be a better day. It could still very well be a bad day, and to be honest, even the conversation with Miss Granger hadn't made this day a good one.

But it had helped.

If there was something that helped, then maybe that mean that things could improve.

He opened the charms journal and told himself that he would wait until tomorrow to see.

And maybe another conversation with Miss Granger would not be misplaced.

The next day was a good day. Followed by a mildly bad one, then a 'meh' day and the one after that he had gotten into a heated debate with Miss Granger where she called him "pig-headed" in the middle of the hallway.

"Miss Granger," he said with a sneer, "A pig is an animal that I least resemble. If you truly wish to insult me, please learn at least some insults regarding beaks and animals that can fly."

It was not supposed to be funny, but the girl's face just crumbled under the weight of trying not to laugh and then had to audacity to bend over in hysterical giggles.

His fuming expression when she looked up did nothing to quail her laughter as it became difficult for her to breath.

"You-ou your… fault!" she gasped between guffaws. He pursed his lips and turned his head to the side. He supposed it was. But again, it was not that funny. Hermione sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Your still wrong, Professor." She said patting his shoulder affectionately. "I'll prove it tomorrow, but I have to go now." She waved goodbye and ignored his indignation of being laughed at and then dismissed. He huffed and stalked back to his classroom muttering about how he was going to show how not wrong he was.

He had forgotten to categorize that day entirely.

The next day after a staff meeting however, Hermione caught him by the arm as she asked Minerva to stay for a moment.

"Severus and I were discussing something the other day and I know you will back me up on this." The girl blathered on, completely ignoring the fact that the other two people had gone stiff and were avoiding eye contact with each other.

Before that year as headmaster, the two had gotten on just fine. They were colleagues with a healthy streak of competition. Severus had been happy to consider her his friend. But when he came back under Voldemort's order to rule the school, that was lost. She said things that cut him to the core, though he never let her know and see looked at him in ways that, when he remembered it, could produce a very bad day, regardless of how it turned out.

She didn't look at him that way anymore because she had barely looked at him at all these days. She was tense and stoic around him and he returned the favor.

"Isn't that right Professor?" Hermione said turning towards him.

"More or less." He blandly responded.

"And isn't that just ridiculous, Minerva?!" the girl said turning back towards the older witch. The woman's mouthed worked as if she were struggling with what to say.

"Yes, it really is. If you think about it."

And then she looked at him; jumping right into the fray as if nothing happened. For a moment Severus just stood there, trying to will away the ache in his chest as he half paid attention to the two woman explaining how he was wrong.

He didn't mind being wrong and he didn't mind the ache. Minerva was wagging her finger at him in that way she did when she was scolding him, her accent rolling off her tongue after he made a snide remark and she responded.

"Well, Minerva, you have brow-beat me into submission once again." He said putting his hands up in surrender and affecting a long-suffering tone. The ache became lightness as she laughed at the old joke between them and smacked his arm.

He had his old friend back.

This was a good day.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I finally brought Hermione into the story, this is, after all, supposed to be a romance. I just wanted to tell a bit of more background to Severus' side of the story. I hope you are all enjoying it! I would love to know what you think, so please review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Are these even a thing anymore? I mean really.**

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Chapter Six

He stood next to the waterway behind his house at Spinner's End and stared at the now defunct mill that his father had worked at the majority of his childhood. No matter how old he got, the smoke stacks it still stood as imposing and dark against the gray sky as the had since he could remember.

He wondered if their were giants in life that never fell; never to be defeated and stood over in victory.

Snape looked down at the gun in his hand and realized that like the stacks that made up the skyline of his childhood, his father and his memory had also always stood over him with a scowl and a clenched fist.

As his tormentors at school had with mocking faces.

As his once dark master had and how Albus never tried to.

He only missed the presence of that last one... but they were all dead regardless.

And the stacks still loomed.

He breathed in deeply as he looked at his hand once more and let it all out in a huff.

Enough of this.

At first he was just going to throw the damn (2 sickles and counting for the jar) gun into the waterway. But thoughts of some young punk finding it during a dry spell and hurting himself stayed his hand. With an annoyed twist of his mouth, he told himself to stop being melodramatic and Evanesco'ed the thing from existence.

He didn't linger but turned back and began to walk through the tall grass back to the house. Out of a courtesy that only his mother had ever enforced he, wiped his feet on the mat before walking into the kitchen. It was really the only room that he had positive memories of because it was the only room his father had avoided. Something about a woman's proper place and wasn't his son just right nancy for-

Snape stopped and shook his head once.

No. He wasn't going to wallow in bitter reminiscences anymore. That was why the kitchen now stood bare, just like the rest of the house. He took another deep breath and pressed his lips into a thin determined line.

He wanted better.

Hell if he knew how to attain it, Merlin knew he had never had it, but, by the gods, he wanted it. And to do so he had to leave all the other shite from the past behind and walk out from their shadow.

Three sickles when he got back.

He walked through the house once more and then locked it up tight. No one was looking to by in the winter and wanted to wait for a better market. It could just sit empty for all he cared.

Walking back unto Hogwarts grounds, he wasn't sure what he would feel. Was this home now? No. Not really, but he could live here.

"Severus!"

Snape stopped and glanced to the side and saw Hermione walking up to him at a brisk pace and smiling. At some point, someone had told her that since she was three different professor's apprentice she should just call everyone by their given names. This person was not Snape. But she didn't actually follow this advice without uncertainty lurking behind her eyes until he had called her 'Hermione' one day in a staff meeting.

The way she smiled afterwards kind of made him feel like he won something.

He waited and watched as she jogged up the remaining steps that led from Hagrid's cabin. She must have been visiting him.

"Back from running your errand?" she asked breathing a little deeper from the stairs. She patted her hair a bit self-consciously, as if her small jaunt had encouraged it to be rebellious. He smirked as he thought about how that mane could not be tamed, just like the woman it belonged to. He opened his mouth to respond when it happened.

The setting sun hit her face just right and suddenly everything shifted. It was like he was seeing for the first time what she truly looked like. Nothing had changed about her, but he was spellbound by her beauty in that moment. He couldn't look away. He didn't want to. Her pert little nose, the sweet line of her jaw, her full lips and glowing hair… they were perfect regardless of the fact that they weren't. It was like the universe had convened to show him something wonderful and, in that moment, the beauty of Hermione Granger felt transcendent.

Crap! He was staring and she was patting her hair again, actually worried now that was something wrong with it. He turned quickly to the side, breaking his graze and clearing his throat.

"Your hair looks fine Hermione and yes, I have completed my task."

He almost grimaced at the awkwardness of his own speech. He didn't have to mention her hair damnit! But a glance back at her showed her tucking a strand behind her ear with a shy but pleased grin. He felt a sudden need to know what her hair felt like against his own fingers and he quickly clasped his hands behind his back.

"Walk back to the castle with me?" he asked staring in the opposite direction.

"Sure!"

She chatted amiably as they walked and he simply nodded and gave one syllable responses. Once at the castle, she said goodbye and waved as she hurried off. Snape watched her go and tried to shake the feeling that had gripped him.

He tried to shake it as he made his way to his rooms, then as he was falling asleep. When he woke up, he initially thought that it had left him, but wait! There it was again. It stayed with him during breakfast lunch and dinner and every time that he saw the willful, and blast it all!, chatty woman, it just got stronger until he thought something was twisting in his chest.

He could not forget what he had seen in that wonderful moment and how he now knew that the woman who constantly sat next to him at meals, smiled at him, and sought his opinion, was absolutely divine.

At the end of the week he sat, slouched deeply in his armchair, and stared into his fire as if it held the answers and he was cross with it for that fact.

Hermione had just taken the position of Arithmacy professor and now he would not be rid of her.

He kind of wanted her to hate teaching and quit as soon as possible. With a deep sigh, he realized that that would never happen. The creature was tenacious, if anything.

Sadly, he enjoyed that quality in her. It was adorable and that descriptive word made him want to put another coin the swear jar for even thinking it.

She was also intelligent, engaging, beautiful, kind, strong-willed…

He could list more features of her with many more desirable adjectives but he stopped himself.

It would be lovely to be married to that kind of woman.

And that really pissed him off.

How was he going to find a woman that was just like her?! Marrying her, specifically, was out of the question; though he couldn't think of why and that rankled even more!

He had not even known he wanted to marry, for goodness sake, but he could imagine having access to her stimulating conversation all the time, being able to pull her lush, warm body against him every morning, being on the receiving end of her affection and smile…

He wanted it.

He wished he could have it.

And at that moment he simply longed for her just touch his face, and press her warm lips to his and then tell him her opinion on whether or not muggle calculus can be successfully incorporated into arithmatic equations regarding the application of bay leaves to the Draught of Living Death.

And then kiss her again.

He sat up and covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Shit.

* * *

 **A/N: We finally have reached the bit where Heart's Delight began! Because this is a companion piece I am not sure how much re-hashing you guys want but I am just going to try to write it naturally. Please review with your opinions and any suggestions!**


	7. Chapter 7

I would like to dedicate this chapter to ArtemisBare, who inspired me to finish what I started and reminded me of the joy of sharing my stories with others.

 **A/N: Sorry about the numerous updates. I always notice my mistakes after the fact.**

* * *

Severus did not smile. He had no idea how long it had been since he had and it felt disturbingly like decades. He only noticed that it had been that long when he face started to feel distinctly odd and he realized that a small smile graced his lips. The dirt on the ground suddenly looked infinitely more interesting than anything else as he quickly ducked his head, allowing his hair to fall forward and hide his face.

Then immediately felt ridiculous for doing so and straightened again with a subtle throat clear. Not that Hermione noticed, she was ranting about an article that she read and he loved her for it.

Now that thought made him feel light-headed. Severus found himself fighting the dual sensations of smiling and ducking his head.

He mentally shook himself and took a fortifying breath. It was just a smile. Okay, it had been awhile, but it was not like he wasn't allowed. Unfortunately, it felt a confession. Like Hermione would look over from where she walked beside him and suddenly they wouldn't just be walking to Hogsmeade together. The smile would give it away; she would see that his errand was mostly made up and that while she had a reason to go to Hogsmeade every Tuesday, he did not.

Except for the fact that she was going.

At first he had told himself that he did not like the idea of her walking there by herself.

"Why don't you use the floo, you witch!" he had said, kicking himself for saying it more harshly than he had intended. But Hermione had simply laughed.

"I need the exercise!" She said, "Plus it's a nice walk."

He had agreed that the road was lovely during most of the year and somehow he had gotten invited to go with her.

"I have some things that I could get during my 2pm break." He had muttered.

"Great! We can walk together." She said, touching his hand where it had rested on the table in the Great Hall and turned to respond to something that Flitwick had said. The trip and errands were done together and every second of it filled him with a feeling that was both warm and jittery. But completely enjoyable. The next week he had been walking towards the front doors during his break, just for a walk. He was taking more of those in an attempt to avoid holing up in the dungeons and being miserable all the time, but he got close and there she was.

"Oh, are you going to Hogmeade again? I have to go every week to pick up my arithmancy magazine. Apparently the owls refuse to carry it, it being too big or some such, but really the standard edition abridges the articles!" she huffed as if the idea was downright insulting.

"Would you like to walk together?"

He had no urge to correct her assumption. After all, he would still get his walk and he could just pretend that he needed to buy more ink or whatever he felt like it while there. It was a flimsy excuse but being able to spend time partaking in her lively conversation and having a reason to look at her for extended periods of time without being creepy was worth it.

The next week was on purpose.

He had swallowed three times during lunch and had to keep his hands resting on the table in case they shook.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade today?" he had asked in a tone that he hoped sounded like idle curiosity. She looked up at him with a bright smile, always a smile. Each one felt like a gift that wasn't meant for him but given freely anyway.

"I am. Would you like to go together again?" She asked.

He nodded and resisted the urge to clear his throat.

It became a routine for them and one day he found himself smiling. He wished that the way he enjoyed just being around her didn't feel like taking something under false pretenses, but it did. And he couldn't stop it.

It didn't matter that he was stock piling a variety of stationary with every unnecessary purchase, he would continue to accompany her until she figured out that he was a creepy older man that just wanted to spend time with her. Sharing more with her was out of the question. The second that she found out the way he felt about her, she would distance herself; he was sure of it. For now, he would cherish‒

The spell flew out if the tree line to his right and he moved without thinking, putting himself between the streak of light and Hermione. Her frightened yelp as he was knocked back into her was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

Severus rattled the chains that held him by his wrists against the cell wall and glared at the wooden door as if his acid stare could melt it into a trembling puddle of insecurities. This was his fault. He had been too busy mooning over a young woman and combating heart palpitations like a spotty teen that every FUCKING survival instinct he had in his old bitter body was completely over-written. And it had gotten them captured.

"The charms on these chains are really quite intricate." Said Hermione, because of course she would be distracted by the FUCKING charm work while being held captive. No, that wasn't fair. He could see the fear and uncertainty behind her forced levity. The sight of it and that knowledge that it was there due to his FUCKING incompetence made him sick to his stomach.

"That's because Granger," he said trying not to throw up, "they were hand crafted over a hundred years ago to keep even the most powerful wizards at bay." Hermione nodded.

"I wonder why Bellatrix tortured me in the drawing room and not here then."

The thought of her being tortured stabbed him in the heart with the fear that it would happen and again as he shifted on the ground, rattling his chains once more.

"I was under the impression that Narcissa sealed this part of the basement off soon after her marriage. She never really had a predilection for… these things." He responded.

Hermione nodded again.

"How are they all by the way? I heard they moved to France."

"Granger-" he growled.

"You can't do a damn thing right now, Severus. So stop grinding your teeth and talk to me so can forget how utterly terrified I am!"

He scowled at her to hide the way his chest hurt and his stomach twisted. He needed to get out of this mess. Right now.

"You wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't insisted on going with me to Hogsmeade." He said tightly, which he knew that she knew was BULLSHIT, but he was lashing out.

"Yes. And if you hadn't pushed me out of the way of that curse and gotten hit instead, you wouldn't have been captured either. So, my fault. Fine."

Severus pressed his mouth into a thin line.

"I'm sure you would have been able to defend yourself if I had not fallen on top of you." He said quietly.

"Hmm. Well thanks for that."

They avoided looking at each other as the silence stretched out between them.

"Soooo. Left over Death Eater?" she asked.

"Most likely."

"Angry at me for being one of the Golden trio or you for surviving the snake bite?"

"Does it matter? He got two for the price for one." He spat at her. Hermione took a deep breath and Severus' scowl deepened. This was not the way he wanted to treat her; he wanted to comfort her and reassure her that he would save her. That he was sorry that he had gotten her into this; he wanted‒ his eyes shot to the cell door as it began to open.

A man in Death Eater robes stood in the doorway and smirked at Snape.

"Hello traitor." He said. Severus needed a plan, this was obviously a Death Eater wannabe and he needed to take control. He supposed that levity and disdain would do it.

As he fought and choked on the potion the man forced down his throat he realized the error in his plan.

Fuck

He should have let himself bleed to death of the dirty floor of that shack. He should have put a fucking bullet through his fucking head under the shadow of those fucking smokestacks.

Anything but this.

Oh God! He could feel starting to work. It hurt. It hurt so much. Please, please anything but what he was going to do to her. He couldn't hurt her and live. There was a weightlessness in his limbs as a white, beautiful ‒fuck! no‒ light enveloped his mind.

"I am going to kill you for hurting him." Someone said and he wished that they already had.

She would be his. Everything he ever wanted was his and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

"No, no." he muttered "It's not true! I won't believe it!" Pressure built, pressing down on his ability to think until all of his resolve, fighting back, snapped, and he was overcome.

Then he smiled.

Why wouldn't he. The life inside of him was on fire and the heat warmed his heart and his belly. The fire seared his senses. It was joy. It was light. He turned and looked at the living coal that was at the center of it.

"Hermione." He purred.

* * *

 **A/N: The second part of the chapter is a, slightly, abridged version of my other story "Heart's Delight". This story is a companion piece to that one, so please go read hat one if you haven't yet. I am not sure how many more chapters I am going to write until I put a bow on this fic, what are your thoughts in regard to where I should end?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just want to express to everyone that might be new to this story and the events in this chapter are abridged. This is a pseudo-sequel to my other story "Heart's Delight", which is told from Hermione's perspective and has more detail. Severus is not exactly a reliable narrator at this point.**

 **Also, all of the bold and italics have a rhyme and a reason in this chapter. Hopefully the logic behind it all is self-evident.**

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Chapter 8

He pressed into her soft body and captured her mouth with his own. The delightful feel of her lips sang throughout his body and he moved closer. Closer. He needed to be closer.

In her.

Part of her.

His hands moved to caress her hair and her back. Oh, the sensations of her fed his very soul on the sweetest wine.

His wife!

His love.

 **"Severus!"**

He heard her voice, but it was hard to concentrate on it at first. The light around him was too bright, the yearning in his heart and body was so sharp it was hard to concentrate. But she was speaking again, and that was more important. She would always be more important. She shone brighter than the light around him.

 **"Severus stop."**

The white light tried to cover her words as he lavished his kisses on her neck and relished the way that she moved underneath him.

Severus grinned as he looked over at Hermione and squeezed her hand that fit, oh so perfectly, in his own. She grinned back shyly and tucked her hair behind her ear. The light of the sun flared white and the urge to crush her against his body and take, take, take almost overwhelmed him but…

That would ruin it.

That would upset Hermione. How could he ever hurt her? The light receded, and he readjusted the picnic basket in his hand, continuing to lead her to the perfect spot. He had never really wanted or imagined himself coming up with or following through with something like an ever-living _picnic_ , but it was what she wanted.

He wanted to lock her in his chambers and keep her occupied with screaming his name. But Hermione wanted a picnic. He was happy with that. Sure, the erection he was sporting was a little inconvenient, but she did not seem to mind all that much. He laid out the blanket next to a stream, under a tree that provided the perfect amount of shade. He turned around to see her laying before him, arms above her head and staring up at him. The light became a high-pitched whine and he couldn't do anything but cover her body with his own. Her kisses made him blind, they felt like everything right with the world.

But he needed to stop. There was something more important than that. Slowly he got up and kneeled beside her. He knew that he should have been nervous as he pulled the small box out of his pocket, but the light shone with the rightness of it and he couldn't make himself doubt himself. He felt it in his heart.

 _Will you marry me, Hermione?_ He asked.

 _Oh Severus! Yes! Of course! It's so beautiful._ Was her response.

 _It was my mothers._ He said softly as he slipped it on her finger. It fit perfectly. He surged forward again; she was still laying with her hands above her head, but that didn't matter. Slipping his hand into her pants and feeling her wet‒

No.

Hermione laughed sweetly.

 _Wait._ She said breathlessly.

 **"‒** **aitwaitwaitwait. Severus, please wait!"**

"What is it, my love?" he said pulling back.

 **"Can we go slower? Please?"** She asked looking up at him, her breath puffing on his face. He chuckled.

"How slow? Its—" the light flared.

 _I want to give myself to you on our wedding night._ She said. _I have been saving myself for you and I want everything about this to be perfect._

Severus kissed her deeply, gently moving her hands over her and thought about how lovely it would be to feel the firm weight of her breast in his hand. Ohh, she felt so good.

 _Unless sex is_ **"— really all you want?— Will you say anything just to shag me?"** She said turning her face away from him. She was crying. He had never wanted to see her cry; he would rather die than hurt her.

"Hermione." He said cupping her face and turning it back towards him. He wiped away her tears and kissed just above each of her precious eyes. "You will never be just a shag, you will be my wife. I love you Hermione and I want you so very much." Fresh tears came and ran down the sides of her face and he dutifully wiped those away as well. "But I will wait as long as you want."

She continued to look sad and he pet her hair, wanting to sooth away every hurt and fear until she glowed under his attention. The white light that filled the corners of his vision gave him the confidence that he could. Of course he could; he could be and do everything that she wanted and needed.

"Can we just lie here together?" he asked, "Not doing anything, just holding each other?"

She smiled at him and he felt like he had earned it.

 **"Okay."** She said. Severus smiled back at her and nuzzled into her hair as he shifted to her side and wrapped his arms around her. She fit there perfectly, like they were made to fit together. It did not even matter that she did not want to bring her arms down from above her head. They lay together and joked about the jewelry that she had decided to wear that day. Not that he minded what she wore; everything that she put on was better because she was the one wearing it.

"Trust you to use an ancient binding charm for getting dressed." He teased, "I'll need my wand. Now where did I put it?" He searched around them for a couple of minutes before shrugging and turning back to Hermione. There was nothing keeping him back from showing her everything he was feeling on his face. There was no danger and no need for walls. The world was filled with light and with her next to him, nothing hurt.

 **"Can we sit up, Severus?"** she asked.

"Of course. Do you want to lean up against this tree?" he said gesturing to the perfect tree that provided shade but did not block the white light all around them.

 **"Uh, sure. If you could just help me sit up?"**

Soon she was snuggled into his lap with him leaning against the _tree_. He kissed her temple and ran his hand down her leg; the brightness and her closeness were just too much to resist the feel of her flesh.

"Tell me what you want at our wedding, Hermione." He said, almost able to see the beginnings of it in the light in front of him.

 **"You behave now." She said moving his hand back to her knee "I will be wearing white on that auspicious day, remember."**

He gave a long-suffering sigh but smiled at her.

"Shall I wear white as well?"

 **She snorted.**

 **"I think that your normal black will suffice, though I think that a charcoal cravat would not be out of place."**

"I believe I could make that sacrifice." He would make any sacrifice for her, but it wouldn't be necessary. The white light extended into the most distant, never-ending future and everything aligned with the perfectness of the present moment.

 **Hermione smiled at him.**

"And what kind of house shall I build you?" He asked.

 **"Build?"**

"Only the best for you, Hermione. I have quite a bit squirreled away and spending it on starting a life with you sounds like a perfect use for it."

 **"Severus, you don't have to-"** The light flared painfully, and he could not stop his arms from contracting slightly.

"I will build you the perfect house." He stated, the certainty of it seared into his mind. The light receded slightly as Hermione began to talk about their house, their children. The conversation shifted to other things that were less happy, but Severus could never deny that his love's curiosity was something he cherished in her.

 **"It is such a warm and lovely day right now, Severus."** She said as her hand cradled his jaw. **"Why don't we take a nap?"**

"Are you sleepy?" He asked.

 **"Well the food you prepared for our picnic was delicious. You should be sleepy too. Why don't you let me sit against the tree and you can rest your head in my lap and sleep without a care in the world?"**

She really had the best ideas. The pride that such a brilliant woman willing stood by his side and let him be around her filled him with almost a painful joy.

No. No pain; there was none of that here.

But he would not pass up the opportunity to put his face near her crotch; that was just a bonus to being the one that got to be with her. Her fingers carded through his hair and he ever wanted it to end.

And it wouldn't. This light would never fade.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, what did you think? Too little from the other story? Too much repetition? I love getting your guys' feedback.**


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